Swan Song
by Unraveled Bohemian
Summary: While the Order of the Phoenix strives to control the unspeakable evils within the world, Harry Potter faces the journey that will lead to the last of the horcruxes or to his death. Will the swan's song last long enough to be heard?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Swan Song

**Author: **Unraveled Bohemian

**Rating: **M

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination.

**A/N: **Please realize this story is meant as an ALTERNATE 7th book – it was started and planned before The Deathly Hallows came out. I apologize for any congruencies that may occur between this story and the 7th book, but some were to be expected (ie: Harry's search for Horcruxes). I **do not plan on giving any spoilers in this story**, and there will be very large changes from the 7th book to this one. There will be new and different characters emphasized in this story (along with our old favorites), new (and more) plot lines, and my own take on the quests that Rowling had already set up, through the 6th book, for the trio. Please be advised that this story will also _probably_ be a fair amount more fluffier than the 7th book – it's fanfiction, and that's the way I want to write it. So there. If you have any questions on differences or anything else, please feel free to contact me. Thanks!

_Thanks for taking the time out to read this story. I would love it if you would review!_

**Chapter One**

The still mist drifted through the silent houses on Privet Drive, leaving the unnatural – and unwanted – chill in the early July air. The only noticeable change in the weather from the previous summer was the mist getting even thicker. The square, tidy houses of Privet Drive had drawn their curtains closed, leaving only speckles of light to emerge from their windows. Privet Drive, in fact, was (besides the mist) in perfectly normal, tip-top shape, with perfectly normal, ordered families who had more to do than worry about the ongoing mist…or the previous year's hurricane in West Country, the abnormal amount of huge fly-type things (their bites landed people in hospitals), the Charlton's home fire (which burned down a whole small town), or the surprising amount of hikers that became lost (and never found) in area forests.

Yet in Number 4, Privet Drive, something much more spectacular than ignoring the news was taking place. There in the living room, a filled trunk (with a white owl standing on top) sat where it had been unceremoniously dropped by the front door. A sixteen-year-old boy, with untidy black hair, stood by the new leather couch shouting at the pig-faced Vernon Dursley.

"Well, that's it, I'm leaving! You've always wanted me out of your house, what in the bloody world has changed your mind now?!"

A piggy, short boy stood in the corner of the room, alternating between gleefully nodding at Harry's every argument for leaving and scowling when his father roared his responses. "What need do we have for Harry around here anymore? All he does is get in my way!"

Dudley's entrance into the argument went unnoticed as Uncle Vernon sputtered and seemed to turn a deeper shade of maroon. "…Wh…I mean, of course we've wanted you out of this house! But the neighbors will talk. They'll think you've run away and start fearing for their valuables…YOU STAY RIGHT THERE!"

Harry had begun to walk towards his trunk, determined to pick it up and leave. Having lived with Uncle Vernon's temper for his whole life, he found it not so difficult to ignore the screaming.

Aunt Petunia stood at the far end of the living room, furthest away from the two screaming parties. It was actually her fault that Vernon would not let Harry leave...she had told that old man she would let Harry have some room in the house, and yes, she knew she would not have to after Harry turned seventeen…but _honestly._ He still had three weeks to go before that happened, and she didn't know what the retribution would be if she let him go.

"NOW SEE HERE! YOU CAN'T GO WALTZING OUT, REFUSING OUR GOOD GRACES AFTER SIXTEEN YEARS!"

Harry had managed to get his trunk halfway to the door before finding he had to drop it, surprised to hear Aunt Petunia dive into the squabble.

"I made a promise! And you know as much as anybody I don't care what happens to you when you walk out that door, but…"

"BUT WHO KNOWS WHAT THOSE CRAZED FRIENDS OF YOURS WILL DO TO THIS FAMILY IF YOU WALK OUT THERE!"

Harry whipped around, causing Uncle Vernon to take a few steps back in surprise.

"Scared of Dumbledore, are you? Dumbledore? WELL, HE'S DEAD, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HIM, NOW DO YOU? BUT THERE'S WORSE THINGS OUT THERE, AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW BECAUSE YOU FORCE YOURSELVES INTO THIS LIFE…" Harry's voice slowly gained volume as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia brought up the promise that Dumbledore had held them to. He was tired of it. Tired of them rambling on about things they didn't know, tired of them saying the names of those he loved and not caring when they found out they had died.

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened as she took in the news. "…dead?"

Uncle Vernon's face broke out in a maniacal grin. "HAH! You might as well leave, there's nothing tying you to this house anymore! We'll be glad to see the last of you!"

Harry didn't argue for once, seeing as though this had been what he had been trying to do since six o'clock that night. Aunt Petunia didn't say a word as he picked up the packed trunk, Hedwig flying up to his shoulder to give him more maneuverability with it. Of course, Harry had thought about leaving Privet Drive much earlier than this. He arrived slightly before the normal date, almost in the third week of June. Ron and Hermione had been quickly whisked off by their parents, though both promised to keep in touch as much as possible, and would make it to Privet Drive to spend some time with him before going to the Burrow. Days passed and there was no sign of Ron and Hermione, and while Harry knew they were both very busy (Ron with Bill's upcoming wedding and Hermione probably trying to self-teach herself the 7th year), he could not help but be disappointed when his best friends did not show up. When it turned July, he figured that (being there were no letters from anybody), it was time to leave and make his way toward the Burrow. It would be, of course, prudent to tell everyone that he would be unreachable for an amount of time and he was grateful for everything everybody had done for him.

A sudden loud pop outside the door made Harry drop his trunk on his foot. Aunt Petunia looked terrified at the thought of who could be at the door – as if Dumbledore had come back from the grave just to speak to her about letting Harry leave. Uncle Vernon, of course, merely looked livid. Yet before he could start interrogating Harry, a loud knock sounded on the door, along with muffled voices in conversation behind it.

Seeing that Uncle Vernon was making no move to answer the door, Harry, hopping on one foot and massaging the one that had broken the fall of the trunk, nervously gripped his wand as he opened the door.

"Harry! Been wanting to bring you back over to the Burrow for weeks now, but Mum keeps nagging and nagging and says there has to be _planning_, I mean, honestly…you'd think we should be able to transport you safely, right?"

Harry stepped back, startled, as the two figures entered the square house and closed the door behind them. Looking right at the person who first spoke, Harry was met with fiery red hair and a strained, but grinning face.

"Charlie!...and _Lupin?!_"

Charlie merely grinned and looked around the living room, waving at the Dursleys who still seemed in shock at the invasion. He actually went as far as to mutter that it was mighty fine of them to let Harry stay there for one more summer to Uncle Vernon.

Lupin's robes were still patched and threadbare from many years of wear, but he seemed to be gaining back some of his lost weight. In fact, though he looked more strained and worried than Charlie, he also looked a bit happier than when Harry had last seen him.

"Surprised to see me, are you? We wanted at least two people to pick you up, and, well, you know…it's been quite hectic lately. And Fleur practically won't let Bill out of the house…"

Harry mustered a grin. "You're looking, er…a bit healthier, I guess."

Lupin ran a hand through his graying hair. "Yeah, well…being around Molly and Nymphadora seemed to force me to eat a bit more…"

Charlie, meanwhile, had caught sight of Dudley, who was half-crouching in the corner where he had been standing, trying to look defiant. Pointing at Dudley and turning back to Harry, Charlie chortled. "That's the git that Hagrid almost turned into a bloody pig, right, Harry? Don't tell mum I know…she'll blow a fuse. But it must have been a funny sight, eh, Harry? And what of Fred and George's Ton Tongue Toffees…"

Dudley's defiant glare quickly vanished as he scuttled out of the room, clearly still remembering his past experiences with wizards. Aunt Petunia followed after him with a muffled gasp, leaving a fuming Uncle Vernon behind. Luckily for Harry, his uncle seemed to want nothing more than to make sure the two wizards took Harry away.

"Ah! All packed already? Well then, Harry, we should get going," Charlie continued, seemingly unaware that he had caused the Dusleys to become somewhat upset.

Harry shifted on his feet slightly, but defiantly looked at Lupin when he started to scold. "Not about to leave without somebody watching, were you?"

Charlie cut in before an argument could erupt, picking up Harry's trunk. "I've been trying to get out of the Burrow for days now, but if it's not Bill holding me up, it's Mum. It's crazy in there, you'll see…"

Walking out to the street outside Number Four, the trio stopped in a particularly shady spot.

"You know how to Apparate, right, Harry? No…I don't mean do you have you license," Lupin added, understanding how Harry was about to reply. When Harry merely nodded, he continued. "We're to Apparate about two blocks from the Burrow – got it?"

They wasted only a second waiting for Harry's response, then a resounding "pop" meant that all three had left Privet Drive and on their way to the Weasley's home.


	2. Chapter 2: Rows and Home

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination.

**A/N: **_Thanks for taking the time out to read this story. Please, please **review!**_

**Chapter 2: Rows and Home**

It was pitch black outside; only the crickets disturbed the silence alongside the country road. A lopsided house stood a little bit off, with faint golden light coming from behind the curtains in most of the windows. A loud noise broke the silence along the road and suddenly three men were standing a little off in the underbrush. Picking their way through the tangles of vines and bushes, the trio made it to the main road, the night masking their movements.

Charlie heaved Harry's trunk along with him, motioning Harry to follow him towards the Burrow. Lupin stayed a bit behind, his wand ready. When Harry gave Lupin a concerned glance, Lupin only returned a slight nod (which wasn't nearly as reassuring as Harry would have liked).

A few trees rustling in the breeze, barely moving any of the mist lurking in the air, was the end of unexpected movement in the surrounding area as the trio made their way up the road. At the boundary of the Weasley yard, Charlie kicked open the creaking, timeworn gate and made his way up to the kitchen door. Harry felt a lump in his throat as they passed the Weasley's outhouse – the last time he had come here, Dumbledore had chosen the spot to have a private conversation with him.

Lupin nudged Harry in the back, knocking him out of his reverie and egging him towards the now open door of the kitchen. As Harry entered, he was greeted with the sight of a kitchen full of people…there was Tonks, sitting at the cluttered kitchen table, along with Fred (or was it George?) who seemed to be working on a new invention. Deep in conversation at the other end of the table was the black Auror, Kingsley Shacklebot, with the much older Elphias Doge.

"And I mean, honestly, I think Molly's just being a bit prudish…"

Harry gave a little jump of surprise at the unknown voice. In the kitchen filled with his friends and acquaintances, there was one person he did not recognize. By the sink stood a young woman, not much older than Tonks, with her thick brown hair tied up in a ponytail. As she carried on with her conversation, unaware of the new guests (or extremely adept at ignoring them), she placed previously made crème brulees onto platters.

"I know it's a time of war, and blah-and-blah, but everyone should be allowed – oh bloody hell! There goes another one…" She stooped to the floor, picked up one of the desserts and made it disappear. "Anyways, you should be allowed a few minutes of peace…" Picking up the platter, the girl deposited it on the table. "Or ten minutes…or fifteen, honestly, I would hope for at _least _twenty. It all really depends on the man, I suppose…"

It became evident who the girl had been talking to as Tonks chuckled and shook her head in response.

The door shut behind him and Lupin quickly made it out of the kitchen without anybody paying much mind. Harry just barely caught sight of the color creeping up into the older man's face as he raced out of the kitchen.

Plopping the platter of desserts down on the table, the girl took a seat across from Tonks. She grinned mischievously as she lowered her voice slightly. "Just go for it – you both have way too much on your minds. I'll keep Molly busy for a while and you don't have to worry about anyone else…"

There was barely a moment to breath before the kitchen door burst open, an angry looking Mrs. Weasley storming into the kitchen. She was glaring pointedly at the girl that had been carrying the conversation with Tonks.

"How…how dare you, Chantielle! This is MY HOUSE, I'll put the rules as I WANT! And speaking of such matters when there are children around…!"

The girl had enough dignity to actually look slightly upset at herself for breaking "the rules" that had been put down. "Look, Molly, it's not that I –"

But she was cut off by the irate Mrs.Weasley catching sight of the new arrivals. "Harry, dear! I knew you would be arriving any minute now!" Turning back to the practically silent room, Mrs. Weasley began fuming again. "Honestly! Didn't any of you notice that they had made it here – in the kitchen – finally? But – no. I suppose Chantielle's plots and stories are much more interesting to listen to!"

The brown-haired girl named Chantielle stood up, infuriated. "Now wait just one moment! I was talking to _Tonks_, not anybody else…Kingsley was having a completely different conversation! And what about Fred? He was sitting here, working on…who knows what!"

Charlie grinned. "What did I tell ya, Harry? It's becoming hell around here – and it's not all just nerves about that wedding!"

Harry choked down a laugh, getting close enough to the table to grab one of the desserts that had been set down earlier. "And I thought I had seen your mum agitated last summer, with Fleur around!"

"Look, Molly. Chantielle didn't mean any harm – " a calm, deep voice tried to break the intensifying argument – but was quickly brushed off by Mrs. Weasley.

"Don't you dare side with her, Kingsley. She's never shown any respect to me, this house, or even the danger we're currently facing with the war!"

"Molly! Chanti knows as well as all of us –"

"Don't, Tonks," Chantielle quieted the bewildered woman. "Right, Molly? If you don't listen to me, why, by Merlin's beard, would you listen to my _friends_?"

The two women continued arguing, neither giving into a compromise. The volume steadily rose, slowly filling the whole house, until – finally at the peak of the row – Chantielle stormed towards the kitchen door. "It's always something with you, isn't it, Molly? You have to have someone to argue with – someone that can absolutely do no good in your eyes, eh? And Ginny isn't a child, Molly – and neither is Ron, or Harry, or any of the others that you keep insisting that we coddle!"

Chantielle left the kitchen in a flurry of anger, leaving behind a completely quiet kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, trying to swiftly regain her composure, turned towards the newly arrived Harry and swept him in a warm hug.

"How have you been, dear?" Without waiting for a response, she turned to the counters of the kitchen and with a switch of her wand began creating a sandwich to give to Harry.

Sitting down at the table, Harry grinned at the feeling of being back at the Burrow, and at the argument that had happened before his eyes. For the moment, he forgot about his mission – and the fact that wanted to come to the Burrow to tell everyone he was leaving, not to stay the summer.

"Everything's been fine, I s'pose – I mean, as fine as they can get at the Dursley's - "

As the sandwich landed in front of Harry, Fred looked up from his work, a grin splashed on his face. "Good to see you made it here in one piece, mate! Mum was worried sick – she's been worried ever since Charlie and Lupin left."

"Wotcher, Harry! Been a mite boring 'round here without you – well, perhaps not so much since Fred and George came," the pink-haired Auror greeted Harry.

Harry looked up, about to reply to Fred and Tonks, but quickly realized that he had taken too large a bite out of his sandwich. Instead, he forced a smile around the mouthful of food.

"Have you been able to keep updated with any of the latest news about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Kingsley Shacklebot's deep voice vibrated, though quickly cut off by Mrs. Weasley.

"Kingsley! Harry hasn't been here for even a full evening – I think we should, at the least, let him have a full night's rest before telling him anything."

Knowing better than to argue with Mrs. Weasley – especially after the large row he had just witnessed, Harry merely returned Kingsley's complacent smile, sitting back and enjoying the last few bites of his food. Those in the kitchen slowly returned back to their works and conversations, all welcoming Harry – but not daring to speak any of the Death Eaters or other news that might be banned from Mrs. Weasley. No sooner had Harry begun wondering where Ron and Hermione - and Ginny, though he tried to ignore the curiosity – were, Mrs. Weasley cleared away his plate.

"We've got a full house here – as you can see – not everyone's staying here overnight, though – we've got a bed ready for you upstairs, in Ron's room." Mrs. Weasley gave Harry and apologetic smile. "Sorry that we can't give you your own room, dear – but we've had to bunk everyone up."

" ' Night, Harry!" Tonks, between sips of coffee, waved to Harry as he made his way out of the Burrow's kitchen. He cheerfully waved back to the bright-haired witch, and then began to carefully make his way up the lopsided stairway towards Ron's room.


	3. Chapter 3: News from the Homefront

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination.

**Chapter 3: News from the Homefront**

The path to Ron's room was surprisingly empty; even the cozy living room was devoid of any presences – surprising, since Harry had assumed to find, at the very least, Chantielle in one of the over-stuffed armchairs. The lack of inhabitants, however, was a well-deserved blessing, as Harry found his eyelids becoming heavier with each passing step.

Coming upon Ron's doorway, Harry paused, lifting a hand to knock on the door. In the moment's hesitation, he smiled to himself, dropping his hand back to his side. Knocking. _Knocking_. Ron would have thought him daft. Harry could imagine him now, drowsily rubbing his eyes; _what're you doing, mate? I was asleep…_

Instead, Harry brought a hand to the doorknob, trying to quietly open the entrance way, in case Ron was sleeping.

Of course, he realized, he shouldn't have assumed anybody would have been asleep. And instead of just one occupant in the room –

A mass of fluffy, brown hair attacked Harry's vision as he tried to survey his surroundings. Harry found himself in a suffocating hug, all the while a shrill girl's voice rung in his ears – "Harry! Oh, Harry! We've been…"

Whatever was to come next was cut off by another voice, harrumphing from the far side of the room, presumably on the bed. "Hermione! Honestly, you do that every time to Harry. Welcome back, mate…"

Hermione stepped back, abashed, to face the smiling Harry. Embarrassedly brushing a hand through his messy hair, Harry looked at his two friends, bemused. "I thought…I thought you would be asleep. I mean, it's late…"

"Blimey, mate, we overheard mum saying that they were going to go get you today – you don't expect us to go asleep with that bit of information, do you?"

"But, Mrs. Weasley _does_ think we're asleep. So we have to be quiet, right, _Ron?!_" Hermione added, including a quick, scathing look towards Ron, lounging on his bed.

"Don't know why you're looking at me like that. I wasn't the one nearly shrilling like a banshee when Harry walked in – " Ron countered, shrugging indifferently.

Deftly ignoring his friends, Harry walked into the room, looking around. Everything was how he remembered – the walls and ceilings were still covered in orange Chudley Cannon posters, along with the Ron's bed still being covered with a Chudley Cannon's comforter. A makeshift bed had been created next to Ron's, covered with mismatched sheets and a comforter. Harry sat down on the lumpy, though comfortable, bed, fingering the purple and twilight sheets.

"Yeah, sorry, mate – mum said to apologize for the bed. But we just have too many people staying – she was mighty upset, though…" Ron started, watching Harry take note of his bed.

Harry grinned. "It's fine – it really doesn't matter. I'm just glad to be out of the Dursley's."

"Almost all of us have makeshift beds, now…there's too many people in the house to give them all proper beds. I'm up in Ginny's room, again…Ginny went to bed early tonight, in case you were wondering why she wasn't here with us…we didn't find out you were coming until late," Hermione informed Harry as she moved to sit at the end of Ron's bed.

Harry merely averted his eyes to look at the floor, a flash of pain crossing into the brilliant green. Hermione quickly bit her lip. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't even think – so, so…you've definitely broken it off…I thought, maybe…"

"I thought we went through this at the end of school," Ron shot a scathing look at Hermione, changing suddenly into an over enthused smile towards Harry. "So, heard any good news about the war, Harry?"

The change of subject might have seemed off-key to anyone else, but Harry had to grin at his friend's effort to lighten his sudden dark mood. "It's alright, Hermione…" Harry's sentence trailed off as a thought struck him. "Why is Fred home? I didn't think Fred and George came home that much anymore…"

"Ah, that. It's just for Bill and Fleur's wedding," Ron started.

"Or, at least, that's all we've been told. I can't believe it's that. Fred's barely been a help around here at all – and with the rest of the Order being around here…" Hermione added.

"Well, there's that. But it's been nice having him around – at least it means there's somebody that isn't wrapped up completely in this wedding!" No sooner had Ron finished than a large, overstuffed pillow knocked him upside the head.

"Honestly, Ron! It's like you have absolutely no feelings! This is important for Fleur – and Bill – and all you can do is whine about why nobody else wants to go play Quidditch or wizard's chess," Hermione stormed.

Ron scrunched up his face in exasperation, one hand tousling his hair. "Do you really need four people looking over stupid, bloody flowers?"

Harry watched the argument back and forth until the voices began to grow in volume and anger. It was then that he decided to jump in, before Mrs. Weasley decided to come into the room and break up their late-night reunion. "Wow – Charlie was right when he said that the house was filled with high tension because of the wedding…how's Bill doing through all this?"

Hermione smiled fondly. "Bill's turned into such a gentleman. I mean, honestly, it's all '_whatever makes Fleur happy…_' "

"Don't listen to her, Harry. Bill's only like that when he's around Mum, and Fleur…and Hermione. The rest of the time he's trying to figure out what's different between all the flower arrangements that Fleur told him to choose from. He's mad, really, to even think about getting married," a thoughtful expression crossed Harry's flame-haired friend. "I'm never getting married."

"You're such an ogre, Ron…I don't care what you say, I think Bill's been doing fantastic. And Fleur! She's actually reasonable to talk to now! You'll see, Harry…even Mrs. Weasley doesn't mind talking to her anymore."

Harry grinned at Hermione; he remembered when he first met Fleur. She was beautiful, but Mrs. Weasley, or any of the women, could barely put up with her. "Well, at least _they're _getting along better." Harry bit his lip, suddenly remembering the new woman he met briefly in the kitchen. "Blimey! I almost forgot to ask – who's the new girl? Is she a part of the Order?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but before she had a chance to answer, a grinning Ron jumped in. "Oh, you must be talking about Chantielle. We heard her and mum get in a row downstairs – were you here for that?" Ron continued talking, barely stopping for Harry's nod in response. "She kind of came out of no where – I've never seen her before. We're pretty sure she's a part of the Order, but no matter what, she's bloody fun…"

"I remember her coming into the Grimmauld Place a few times late a night while we stayed there. So that must mean she's a member of the Order….I keep telling Ron that, but he never listens…" Hermione interrupted.

"Well, _I_ never saw her there…" Ron harrumphed.

"That's because she always came at night; if she stayed during the day, she must've stayed in one of the rooms. But how she was allowed to join the Order of the Phoenix is beyond me. She doesn't take this war seriously, and she's far too unprofessional…and she obviously upsets Mrs. Weasley…"

Much to Harry's amusement, it was now Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "Hermione thinks everything fun is wrong. Chantielle is great, when she stays here! Mum doesn't like her much…"

"Wonder why," Hermione muttered.

"But Tonks gets along with her. And so does Lupin and Kingsley!"

"I wonder what she does for the Order," Harry mused, stifling a yawn.

"We dunno, mate. We don't even know what she does for a job…"

"If she _has_ a job," Hermione interjected.

The trio fell into an easy silence as they pondered their discussions; so much had happened over summer without Harry knowing. But was the Order winning the fight against Voldemort? Or was the loss of their greatest supporter, Dumbledore, threatening to destroy them?

It was Harry that got the courage to ask what they all had begun to think about.

"And Hogwarts? What's going to happen?"

The silence permeated through the room. Ron stared blankly at his hands, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Hogwarts might not reopen.

"It'll reopen. It has to. What would all the students do without it? And it's still the safest place…even with…with Dumbledore gone…." Hermione trailed off.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was quieted by the sounds of footsteps stopping outside of Ron's room. Instead, he contented himself with a quick nod at Hermione's reassurance, a small, sad smile crossing his face.

Hermione crossed the small space between the beds, giving Harry a quick hug before whispering her goodbyes to her two friends. Slipping out of the room – Mrs. Weasley having already left – Hermione made it to Ginny's room, leaving Harry and Ron to slip into their beds and stare at the dark silence around them.

Neither spoke, though thoughts raged through their minds. Sounds came and went throughout the house as doors opened and closed, slowly lulling the friends to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Final Preparations

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination. Nor do I own Lord Alfred Tennyson, "The Charge of the Light Brigade" or any of Tennyson's works.

**Chapter 4: Final Preparations**

Streaks of light threatened to blind Harry as he slowly awoke to an empty room. Ron, he mused, must have already gone downstairs for breakfast; Mrs. Weasley was always conscientious to allow Harry to sleep in after an especially arduous journey. Ron was never so lucky.

Shuffling about the room, Harry managed to throw on some reasonable clothes from his suitcase, which he assumed had been brought up something in the morning, while he slept. Wiping the sleep from his eyes and mussing up his already rumpled hair, Harry trudged downstairs, hoping that some breakfast had been left for him.

The living room was empty, except for a toppled wizards' chess game, yet Harry knew the house was not completely deserted by members of the Orders. Outside, in the back of the house, the deep jumble of voices could be heard – accentuated by an occasional shriek. Laughter, jokes, and discussions seemed to roam outdoors, leading Harry to wonder who had taken to the back yard – and what they were doing.

As he made his way towards the door, however, Harry's stomach made a sudden rumble. This reminder forced Harry to avert his path and move towards the kitchen, where he was lucky enough to find Mrs. Weasley placing some pieces of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast onto a plate.

"Ah, you're awake, Harry! Here – we saved some breakfast for you…I need to go outside and help everyone. Hurry up and finish it – I'm sure we could use your help, also!" Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry.

Happily taking the blue porcelain plate, Harry took a seat at the kitchen table, his mouth full of bacon before noticing the brown-haired Chantielle sitting at the opposite side of the table.

Or, perhaps _at the table_ was the wrong term, for Chantielle had propped her chair onto its back legs, leaning the wooden back of the chair against the kitchen's wall.

The strange newcomer held a tattered old book in her hands, and seemed completely engrossed in the world-worn pages, barely taking notice in Harry. Deciding not to disturb her, Harry continued with his breakfast, allowing his mind to take stock in what had happened within the past day. He had forgotten to tall Ron and Hermione he wouldn't be staying…

His thoughts were interrupted by Chantielle's sudden, deep sigh – concluded with the heavy thudding of the book being closed. Letting the chair clank back to the floor on all fours, Chantielle smiled – though tinged slightly with melancholy – at Harry who watched her with interest.

"Well then, I suppose we didn't get a proper introduction last night. Sorry 'bout that, but I s'pose you'll get used to it. 'Ello, I'm Chantielle –" She stuck out a slim hand towards Harry as she introduced herself. "Chantielle Ockley. And you're Harry Potter."

Quickly wiping his hands on a napkin, Harry shook the offered hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you." A pause entered the table as Harry studied the book that had been placed upon the table, his curiosity fueled by what she could be reading. Were they old curses? Something that could help the order?

"It's a book of Lord Alfred Tennyson's poems. Fantastic, really – one of my favorite authors." Her fingers traced the side of the timeworn book as she continued, "'_Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred...'"_

Chantielle grinned as she looked up at Harry's confused face. "It's just one of his poems. 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'…ah, Bill! Come in to join us?"

Heavy footsteps alerted the two occupants of the kitchen to Bill's entrance, the oldest Weasley child seeking the solitude that he could barely find outside. His now-malformed face, caused by his attack only months before, broke into a grin as he took a seat next to Chantielle.

"Don't let mum see you talking to Chanti too much – you'll be put on laundry duty for a week," Bill casually joked.

The good-humoured jab towards Chantielle was met with a laugh from Harry. Rolling her eyes, Chantielle merely took Harry's plate (now devoid of any food that had been left over from breakfast) took the sink, quickly washing it.

"D'you want anything else for breakfast, Harry?"

As Harry shook his head 'no', Bill let out a friendly chortle. "You don't cook, Chantielle."

"I do so - " Chantielle retorted, sounding indignant. But as soon as she began, she quieted and grinned at herself. "You're right – I'd burn water if you gave me the chance. But I bake!"

The banter between the two continued for minutes, Harry slowly coming to the realization that they must have been friends from some time ago. Yet, he still burned with questions –

"Chanti's part of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry – in case you hadn't already assumed that," Bill interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"But – why – I mean….well, blimey! Ron, Hermione, and I spent nearly a year at Grimmauld Place. Or at least a few months – what I mean, I guess, is why didn't we see her - you?" Harry replied, quickly realizing he was referring to Chantielle in third person, while she was standing right there in the kitchen with them.

"Chanti joined nearly two years ago - " Bill began.

"But I really wasn't around Grimmauld Place that much. Or, if I was, I came late and slept through the days…it was better for me to keep a low profile those days," Chantielle explained.

"…Because of Mrs. Weasley? Were you two still arguing?"

Bill snorted into his laughter, missing Chantielle's face harden and her nose twitch in annoyance – either with remembrance of those days at Grimmauld Place, or these days arguing with Mrs. Weasley, Harry wasn't sure.

"No, it's just – well, some of the Order need to keep a low profile, y'know? We don't want all the Death Eaters to know who we all are. It makes us more…targets," she replied.

It made sense; Harry knew there were other members of the Order within London that he didn't know about – and there were even more with jobs that made it crucial that their connection with the Order remain concealed. Like Kingsley. But could Chantielle's job honestly warrant that kind of worry…?

"Molly and I didn't always argue so much. But, well, I guess she just needs someone to blame – and I have dutifully taken that spot in her mind," Chantielle continued as she made her way over to sit in her chair once again.

Bill grabbed for the old, crinkled book as Chantielle sat down, flipping the pages without truly reading them. "Stuck your nose in a book instead of coming out and helping with the wedding, eh, Chanti?"

Chantielle took the book back, receiving no resistance from Bill, and then used the thick book to whack Bill's shoulder. "Honestly. You, Fleur, and Molly have the whole house working out there – you don't miss me. Plus, I'll just get in another arguing match with your mother…"

"When's the wedding, exactly?" Harry questioned, realizing he had never received a letter from Ron – or anyone – telling him of the date. All he knew was that it would be this summer.

"Tomorrow," Bill grinned.

"Blimey!"

"Everyone's putting up enchantments as we speak – there's going to be a lot of people here that the Death Eaters don't like much, and everyone's a bit afraid that some of them might decide to show up –" Chantielle informed Harry.

"But we haven't told anyone about the wedding, except those that we were able to talk to in person – that's why we couldn't send you a letter about it, mate," Bill finished. "Well, I think I'll be needing to go back outside – mum and Fleur will have a fit if I go missing for too long."

Bill got up from the table and made his way from where he had come, leaving the new acquaintances at the table. An odd, subtly uneasy silence enveloped the room as the two took a moment to study each other.

"I s'pose we should go out and help, then?" Harry broke the silence – leading to a quick grin from Chantielle.

"You do that, then. Perhaps you'll see me out there – though I rather reckon I'd only get in the way."

It still took Harry a quarter of an hour to make it to the gnome-ridden backyard of the Weasleys. The grass wavered in an unusual sunny day, the earlier morning's dew drops having already dried up as the morning gave way to afternoon. The beautiful Fleur Delacour and Mrs. Weasley were busy directing Mr. Weasley and Charlie Weasley in an almost-comical display: both males were in the air (Charlie on a broom and Mr. Weasley tried to feeble hold onto a tree's trunk and branch) while trying to tie streamers from a central pole to the outside trees. The women were directing.

Harry scoured the yard for his two friends, and found them doing odd dances: first, they would hop close to the ground, diving into the underbrush, then start twirling around and then flinging the hands up and out. They were, of course, gnome-catching (for what good would it have for the nasty devils to be out and about during the wedding?) Hermione and Ron were joined by the identical twins, who, of course, were taking their opportunity to use their magic instead of catching the gnomes in the time-honored "tradition".

This, in turn, made it happen so that every couple of gnomes, one would land solidly on Mr. Weasley's head (or, in one terrific event, on Fleur's – who then ran, fuming, at the two men who apparated to a safe area of the house the moment they realized where the gnome had disappeared to).

It was with the younger group of four gnome-terrorizing witches and wizards that Harry joined, and a good deal of laughter and pranks continued throughout the day. Everyone stayed busy, some of the Order staying at the house to help with the last minute preparations, others coming and going, dropping by only to say hello, or give information as what they had found out about Death Eaters in London.

Bill worked hard, as did everyone, and could often be seen stopping and directing someone – or something – obviously trying to take care of his duties for the wedding.

The sun rose high in the sky, but as it hit its peak and started to slowly lower against the opposite sky, the thickening fog set in once again. The bustling household barely noticed, as the fog was a something expected as of late, but it only served to keep a reminder of the lingering danger that was waiting outside the safe doors of the Weasley household.

Slowly, one by one, the workers gave up on their last minute projects outside and retired to the softly glowing insides of the crooked house, finally leaving only Harry, Ron, and Hermione to their task that they had appointed themselves to. Truly, they had rid almost the whole yard of the gnomes, but they were enjoying being outside and the idle chatter that they found wrapped around them.

In the back of each of their minds, they realized that this day at the Weasley house may be the last in a long time, and none wanted to let it slip by.


	5. Chapter 5: The Nature of Things

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, or anything else that has come from JK Rowling's imagination.

**A/N: **Thank you sincerely to Fullmetal, who is the only person as of yet to write a review (and such a nice one, double thanks!) However, in response, I think I need to hang my head in shame – I didn't realize that the double character in my story's summary (Harry, Hermione) would be construed as a _pariring_, which is not what I meant for…I merely meant to say they were two main characters; along with Ron, Tonks, Lupin, Chantielle (OC), and many other characters. I apologize, I did not mean to falsify anything.

Pairings in this story will include, but not be limited to: Harry/Ginny, Remus/Tonks, Ron/Hermione, and Sirius/Chantielle(OC)

With all of that said, I would _love_ is people would leave reviews, as it is what makes me even happier to write. :D Thanks for spending your time on this story.

**Chapter 5: The Nature of Things**

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**

_**She leaned forward, a slight frown on her countenance. Had she let it get this far? How?**_

_**The storm brewed as a deep elixir, igniting the darkened sky in its path.**_

_**Nothing mattered now. Nothing but that –**_

_**A tiny blue jay tore through the sky, it feathers worn from the fighting wind. It was flying as fast its tiny, powerful wings could travel towards the only safe haven for miles – an old, unpolished cathedral not thirty paces in front of it.**_

_**As a lighting bolt flashed towards the earth, a sudden gust of wind picked up – throwing the petite bird straight into the jaws of an old stone gargoyle. The gusts whirled about the architecture and into the crevices, ruffling and then smoothing the birds' feathers, but that was the only movement to come from the animal.**_

_**And so the rains and winds that raged created the would-be safe haven into a stone coffin, the clouds continuing to tumble about, showing no reverence to the small life they had just taken.**_

_**But such is the nature of storms.**_

* * *

_**She moved her head deeper into the pillows, the thick, deep of the feathers engulfing her. It smelled slightly of mold – of years of mold that not even the surest of cleaners could fix. **_

_**Her eyes fluttered with sleep – of sun-light oceans, and clear skies, and…**_

_**Part of her brain registered someone propped next to her on the bed, looking down at her. She grunted and rolled onto her stomach, in hopes they would just leave her alone. She was sleeping.**_

_**Then a nip at her ear and a nuzzle at her neck.**_

_**"Go away," she mumbled to the intruder of her dreams, moving her head deeper into the pillows.**_

_**She should have known it was no use.**_

_**"But I'm **_**bored**_**," a voice answering, taking on a boyish whine.**_

_**"Go…go kick Kreacher," she returned, but realizing she should just give up.**_

_**Satin kisses at the nape of her neck, warm breath by her ear…**_

_**She flipped to her back, her thick, curling hair blocking her vision to the dark haired man above her. Batting her hair out of her face, she scowled (though the edges of her mouth dared to betray her – a smile was forming underneath her playful display).**_

_**"I've – I've been out all week, working, y'know! I'll be here for at least –"**_

_**But she was interrupted as he covered her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss.**_

_**"I know, but I've been **_**here**_** since this whole thing started – and Snivellus is the only one that's brought news this week…and Harry left two days ago, so it's been awful drab –"**_

_**But she didn't need his excuses; a pillow flew from behind them, smacking the man square on the head, feathers floating daintily around the room. Cheerful laughter crept from her throat as a look of surprise overcame him –**_

_**And then the deep, soul-searching kisses overcame her –**_

_**And as sure as she was that Dementors could suck out their victim's soul, she was sure that his kisses would devour her heart, her dreams, her wishes.**_

_**But such is the nature of love.**_

* * *

_**"The world isn't good or just or peaceful," a voice rang out.**_

_**"D'you think I don't know that already? Look at me! Don't you know what I've been doing, what I've been trying to –"**_

_**"I know, Chanti…God I know. Ian Astor was brilliant – and he must've seen it in you, too, when you just tried, but…"**_

_**Chantielle whipped around from the window she had been looking out of, her eyes blazing at her friend. "But what, Lil? I don't try bloody enough?"**_

_**"No," Lillian's voice became icy as she answered, "But why don't you try to use some of that bloody brilliance to figure out what type of situation you've put yourself into. D'you think that everybody you care about it just going to come out of this war doing jigs and donning stupid smiles? Get a grip..."**_

_**Anger flared in her, worse than anything she had felt in her years at Hogwarts. Her friend, one of her supposed best friends was telling her she was living some stupid fairy tale –**_

_**Didn't she know, didn't she know – didn't she know that Chanti was out almost everyday, trying to recruit? Risking her life so that the Order may have a fighting chance? Who the hell cared what she did at night, or the day or two that she took for rest…**_

_**"I thought you would understand," her voice calmed to a quieter, slippery volume.**_

_**"I understand that war isn't a time to go falling in love – even if you're keepin' it quiet from everyone else," was the similar, eerily quiet voice of Lillian Billings.**_

_**"Well then, I guess here's where we depart. Good-bye, Lil, and I hope to see you on the other side of this storm." Chantielle crossed the small flat, while white, calm anger flared in her wake.**_

_**As her friend left her home for good, Lillian sat down in a large, overstuffed armchair near where she was standing. A small crystal tear slid down her face as the destruction finally began to rain down on her. This friendship, this friendship that had withstanded years of the Forbidden Forest, of Peeves, of detentions….**_

_**She had only wanted what was right for her friend; Chantielle loved so carelessly and so often (it seemed) that it was only disaster for such an occurrence to happen in the midst of all of this….**_

_**If only, if only….if only they could just survive this one last obstacle, she knew they could be (would be) friends; she knew they would laugh and joke, and say how Lillian was always the rational one, while Chantielle cared only for her heart – and those in it.**_

_**But such is the nature of friendship.**_

* * *

Chantielle woke sweating, tangled in her deep, maroon sheets. From the window where she had left the curtains open, she could see the early morning stars – it was still an hour or two until sunrise.

Her breathing was ragged from her dreams (or were they nightmares?) Rolling to her side and trying to dislodge the clinging cotton sheets, her feet found the cold floor. She wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night, she knew.

Crossing the floor to her large, two-paneled window, she stared out of it into the now-quiet Carnaby Street. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes.

Now was not the time for regrets.


End file.
